


Pansy's Riddle

by Maccium



Series: Tomansy Tales [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:53:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29528775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maccium/pseuds/Maccium
Summary: What if Tom Riddle's diary Horcrux was found by another little girl, before Harry Potter's first year. What strange and intriging changes would this bring about to the story as we know it? Tomansy. Rated M.
Relationships: Pansy Parkinson/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Series: Tomansy Tales [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2169321
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1: Pansy discovers a Riddle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for the plot and any original characters. Everything else is the property of J.K. Rowling.

**June 1990**

**Malfoy Manor**

Summer was here. The last vestiges of springtime weather were gone and, while not quite what most would call summer weather, it was undeniably summer. Pansy Parkinson sighed softly to herself, then huffed in annoyance with herself. ' _Really!'_ She thought to herself. ' _I can't believe that that is all I can focus on right now. I must be really bored!'_

' _Still'_ , she mused silently to herself, ' _It isn't as though I can do very much while I'm here every year.'_ She sighed again. Her father had insisted that she spend the two months of June and July at Malfoy Manor every year since she turned eight years old. Her father really was set on a match between herself and the heir of Lord Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy: one Draco Malfoy. She scoffed. It wasn't like she had a chance with him. Not that she didn't try, of course. She was rather taken with him, _after all_. He just barely noticed her existence. All he seemed to want to do was play quidditch outside with his two troll-like henchmen, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

Evidently, considering Narcissa Malfoy took pity on her and told her she was free to explore their rather expansive library collection to entertain herself, she wasn't alone in seeing this from Draco. Of course, the gesture would have been much more meaningful if it hadn't just been extended to her this year. She had to put up with two years of this solitude and indifference on the part of Draco - without _any_ means to amuse herself. Save, of course, for her idle thoughts.

She had yet to make anything of the offer to explore the library, seeing as she was so used to _not_ having it as an option that even when she did, she just stuck to what she was familiar with. She supposed she could give it a try, but she'd always been a stubborn girl, and she didn't like the thought of having to do an _actual_ activity to stave off her boredom. She was, after all, not wanting to admit to herself that she was passed over again and again by the object of her affection, and if she did something _actively_ to stave off the boredom, that is precisely what she'd have to admit to herself. At least this way, if she stayed sitting quietly and let her mind wander, she could trick herself into believing that she was just going to be waiting for a little while until the day came when he finally noticed her presence.

She sighed again. She was going to go and see Draco now. Hopefully today would be the day that he finally deigned to notice her presence. She doubted it, but then again, she figured that it was only a matter of time. She had an _impeccable_ Pureblood pedigree, after all, and her father always told her she was the most beautiful little girl in the whole world, so it could only be a matter of time before he inevitably woke up and noticed her presence in his life. She knew he hadn't yet, but she also knew that she was perfect - _A perfect little Pureblood angel_ \- and as such she didn't think much of his apparent indifference so far. It wouldn't last - she just _knew_ it wouldn't last. So, despite her annoyance at her treatment up to now, she convinced herself of this, and she allowed herself to _hope._

* * *

**July 1990**

**Malfoy Manor**

"Bugger off, Parkinson!" Draco Malfoy screamed.

"But Draco!" Pansy whined. "I just want you to come and walk through your garden with me! You've been ignoring me all summer! I just want you to spend a little bit of time with me!"

"I said 'Bugger off'!" He shouted at her angrily. "Why won't you leave me alone with all of your stupid plans. I am busy trying to teach Crabbe and Goyle how to fly near the border of our Manor's wards so we can sneak a peek at the Muggles!"

"But Draco, we have to spend time together!" She shrieked at him. "Our parents want us to, and so do I! Can't you see that we're meant to be together? I just want you to come and spend time with me."

"We're nothing! You're nothing to me!" He shouted back. "The only reason my father even allows you to come every year is because he enjoys watching your father make a fool of himself trying to ingratiate himself with our family. As if the Parkinsons would _ever_ be in the same league as the Malfoys!"

"Draco! You don't mean that. How could you say that to me? Don't you see that I love you?" Pansy was feeling beyond hurt at his words. After all, did he really feel that it would be so terrible to have to spend a little time with her?

"Yes, I do mean that!" He stated firmly, a hard quality to his voice and a cold look in his eyes and he poked her chest to emphasize each new hurtful comment he made. "You mean nothing to me, and I certainly don't love you! I wish you would just accept that and leave me the bloody hell alone!" He stomped off and gestured for Crabbe and Goyle to follow him after this statement, leaving Pansy alone and in shock from his harsh words.

Pansy started to cry and ran back into the Manor as fast as she could. She ran to her room and sat down on her bed. _'I can't believe he said that to me.'_ She thought to herself. She was used to his indifference, but his outright attack on her had been something new and completely unexpected. She cried softly to herself, remembering the cruel words and the harsh way in which they had been hurled at her.

She suddenly felt very drained, and lay down right where she was. Not even bothering to lay on the pillows or to pull the covers over her body. She just lay there and fell asleep, with tears running down her face.

* * *

She woke up a few hours later. Still feeling dejected but having somewhat more energy, she went to the bathroom and splashed water over her face to clear the remains of her tears and went to sit back on her bed. _'Draco was so cruel yesterday. What about me makes him so hostile. It's not like I ever try to be anything less than perfect for him.' She sighed._ _'Well!'_ She thought to herself angrily. _'If I'm so terrible then I might as well go and enjoy his Manor for myself for a change.'_ Yes, she thought that was a splendid idea. After all, she had yet to make anything of Narcissa's offer to use their library, and she figured now was the perfect time to do so. She just wished she'd had a revelation like this sooner than the last week of her time here this year.

She entered the library and looked at the floor to ceiling, wall to wall bookshelves. Each one piled high with book after book after book. They were _quite_ _literally_ packed with books. She didn't think that there was a single open space on them. She sighed and grabbed something to read and then sat down in a plush and regal looking wingback armchair to read.

She had been reading for a while now, when she felt a gentle tugging sensation. Now, this wasn't a normal tugging sensation like you'd feel if someone was pulling the sleeve of your shirt, or your hands for that matter. No, this was a decidedly different feeling altogether. This feeling was coming from inside her mind. And maybe it would have given her pause if she wasn't used to unusual sensations and happenings of any sort. But, she was a witch, after all. And unusual happenings were as natural as breathing to her. Maybe more so than even that.

Now, maybe, if she was a normal little girl, one without the blessing of _magic_ , she might feel more cautious about following the feeling tugging at her mind, and stay away from the direction of the insistent pull. She was, however, decidedly _not_ a normal little girl, and nor would she ever be. And she was incurably curious after all. This just had to be a magical artifact. And in a room with nothing more than _books_ , she was certain that is just what it is, and she knew she just had to read that book, wherever and whichever book it was, because it was undoubtedly a special book, and she was a special girl. She just knew that a book like that was just made for her. So, she went to search for the book that was pulling her, ever so insistently, towards it.

She'd been searching for nearly twenty minutes now, and still she couldn't find the book. She was growing frustrated, but she was stubborn, and determined to have this _very special_ book, more so than she would be normally, even, given Draco's outright hostile rejection towards her the day before. She just _needed_ this book. And, finally, she found it. It was hidden amongst various inconspicuous books about herbology and potion making, which she scoffed at. No book as special as this one obviously was, could ever have belonged anywhere near such obviously common books as these. She took it gingerly in her hands, and turned the cover to face her. It was a small, black journal type book. One that was blank on all sides, except for the spine, in which the words _T. M. Riddle_ were inscribed in shiny, golden letters. _'Strange.'_ She thought to herself. Then, as if struck by a revelation, _'It must have belonged to Draco's paternal great grandfather Tiberius Malfoy. It must be a riddle of his hiding a family secret._ She smiled to herself. She would discover the secret and when she knew, maybe it would give her some insight into finally getting Draco to appreciate her.

Giddily, she began to flip pages, only to see blank page after blank page. Confused, she closed the book. But she wouldn't be deterred. It was, after all, not in her nature to give up easily. She would take this little book and uncover it's hidden secrets, and hopefully she could use them next year to finally hook Draco on her, right before they started Hogwarts. _'It will be perfect!'_ She thought to herself. But she resolved to not bother with trying to understand what exactly was hidden within this book until she went back to her Manor in less than a week. After all, she didn't want to be caught by Lucius and Narcissa, or even Draco, trying to uncover their family secrets. She finally felt content, for the first time in the three years she'd been with Draco at his house, constantly being overlooked, now her future prospects improved dramatically. And she finally had the means to prove herself worthy of eventually taking on the Malfoy name.

Pansy went about the remainder of her week, sitting and thinking to herself like usual, and also in exploring the collection of books in the library. She happily packed her bags and stashed the little black book inside her trunk, right near the bottom, and went to greet her father as they apparated back to her home together, leaving another year with the Malfoy's behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: So this was my idea for a story featuring Pansy Parkinson and Tom Riddle. I feel as though it could very well have happened, all things considered. I mean, Pansy was so close to Draco - or at least she tried to be - and I assume that she would have been sent to spend time with him at the Manor before starting Hogwarts, thus leading her to come into contact with a certain dark artifact belonging to the Heir of Slytherin himself. I am curious to know what you all think of this, and I eagerly await any reviews, direct messages, etc... to hear your feedback. And I'd also be curious as to any guesses or assumptions you all have about where a story like this could go. I hope you all enjoy it. I can't promise to be updating regularly, but I will try my best. Bye for now.


	2. Chapter 2: Riddle me this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for the plot and any original characters. Everything else is the property of J.K. Rowling.

**August 1990**

**Parkinson Manor**

Pansy ran up to her room upon getting home and placed her trunk on her bed. She had a mission to uncover the secrets hidden within the little black book she assumed must have belonged to Tiberius Malfoy, father of Abraxas Malfoy, who was the father of Lucius, and who in turn was father to Draco, the object of her current and ongoing obsession. She needed to uncover the hidden depths of this book. She knew she could prove to Draco her worthiness for him with whatever she could learn in this book.

She pulled the book out from the bottom of the trunk and set it on top of her writing desk in the far corner of her room, near the window. She then sat and stared at the book for a few minutes, scrunching up her face and trying, somewhat desperately, for a flash of inspiration as to what she should do to start unraveling the secrets contained within. She had so few options, she didn't even have a wand yet, and she knew of no spells that could ever uncover the secrets of a book that was obviously enchanted with powerful magic. Certainly magic above her ten years of life. But she wouldn't ask for help. She _had_ to be the one to figure this out for herself. She wasn't just out to prove Draco wrong about her. She needed to reaffirm to herself that she was as great as she'd always known herself to be.

She sat there and thought for close to an hour and when no further revelations came, she started to get really angry. Why should she be finding this so difficult. Yes it was obviously powerful, but then again, so was she. _Wasn't she?_ She was! She knew it, so why couldn't she understand what to do! Sighing loudly, she slammed her tiny fists into the desk, and managed to knock the ink well over that was situated in the corner of her desk, spilling ink everywhere, including all over the little black book.

"Oh no!" She wailed. Frantically, nearly in tears from the fear that she'd ruined her one chance to really bring her and Draco closer together, she rushed to pick up the book. She held it and pried it open, expecting to see ink stains covering page after page. And yet, to her immense shock, _nothing._

She was in shock for a second, and then, finally, what she'd been waiting for. That tiny spark that filled her with renewed energy and _hope_. The spark called _inspiration_. She rushed to take her quill and, after righting and refilling her downed ink well, dipped it inside and placed a few drops on a blank page of the little book. She watched, somewhat awed, as the page absorbed the ink, simply appearing to vanish inside some hidden depths possessed within its yellowed pages. And, suddenly following the ink disappearing, words appeared on the paper.

' **Stop covering the pages in ink! It's incredibly annoying.'**

She stood in shock, and then began to write something on the pages of the book.

**'You can speak?'**

**'Well obviously. I can't begin to imagine how you could figure that out.'**

She scowled down at the pages and began to write an agitated reply.

 **'Well, forgive me for being a bit confused as to how a** _**book** _ **is able to talk back to me!'**

The reply was fairly indignant (Can a _book_ be indignant?) as it stated, **'I am not a book, I am a person. A wizard actually.'**

She stared at this and decided to ask it, **'Really, a wizard?! Are you Tiberius Malfoy? Can you tell me something that can help me understand Draco better?'**

 **'Abraxas' father? Why on earth would you think I am one of those pompous blonde haired fools? And what on earth is a** _**Draco?'** _

She was genuinely confused now, and somewhat dejected to discover that her assumption on the nature of the book was way off, and it wouldn't be able to help with her on her quest to bring her and Draco closer together, she half-heartedly responded.

' **Draco is not a what, he is a who - Draco Malfoy! And I guess I just assumed you were Tiberius because you have the initials** _ **T. M.**_ **on the spine and you were in the Malfoy Manor's library. So, if you're not Tiberius, who are you then? And how are you in a journal?'**

' **Really, I was in Malfoy's home?** _ **Intriguing**_ **. And I believe it said T. M.** _ **Riddle**_ **, but my full name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. This was my diary. And I am not** _ **in**_ **a journal. I am a… memory,** _ **preserved**_ **within my diary, since 1943. And now that I've answered some of your questions, perhaps you'd answer some of mine? What is** _ **your**_ **name, and what is the year at present?'**

She was shocked! 1943?! Just how did this, this… memory?... whatever it was, how did it come to be in the diary, and how did it survive? She knew that Tom Riddle wasn't a Pureblood name, but Marvolo, that was definitely a wizard's name. And while she knew that it wasn't a Pureblood name, he obviously knew the Malfoys, to be on first name basis with Draco's grandfather Abraxas, and was obviously very powerful if he could do this to a simple diary. She decided to ignore his dubious blood-purity and try to understand Tom better.

**'My name is Pansy Parkinson, I am ten years old, and I will start Hogwarts in a year. How old are you Tom? And the current year is 1990.'**

**'It's a pleasure to meet you Pansy. You have such a pretty name, you must be very beautiful** _**indeed** _ **to warrant such a pretty name. And to answer your question, I am 16 years old. 1990? Hmm, forgive me my curiosity, but I am somewhat out of touch with the wizarding world and was wondering if you could help enlighten me as to what has occurred since 1943.'**

Pansy smiled, Tom was so kind to her, so much kinder than Draco ever was and… _'Wait, did I really just think that?'_ …And decided to help Tom out, seeing as he was obviously appreciating what her father always told her was true about her, that she just knew to be true. And Tom seemed almost effortlessly charming. And to anyone less vain than her, it might appear disconcerting, but Pansy would never call herself vain. She was just honest. Always, and sometimes brutally so. She could also be quite obsessive and atrociously stubborn, but where someone else might look at themselves and see flaws, Pansy looked at herself and always saw perfection. She was always told how perfect she was after all, and if everyone important around her recognized it, she asserted to herself it must be true.

**'Thank you Tom, you're very kind. My father always tells me I am the most beautiful girl in the world, and you must be very smart to recognize that. And as for news on the wizarding world? Well…'**

* * *

Tom stayed silent and listened as this little girl explained what had happened to his future self and how a Potter, _a Potter,_ of all people seemed to defeat him as nothing more than an infant roughly a decade ago. He listened amusedly as she raved about how her father ranted about the defeat of _the Dark Lord -_ Lord _Voldemort_ , although most wouldn't speak his name, even amongst his followers, preferring the moniker the Dark Lord, or, in the case of his enemies, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or You-Know-Who - _his_ defeat, effectively doomed the wizarding world and destroyed it's future.

It amused him to think of the _rats_ cowering in fear from the mere mention of his name. A name of _Power._ After all, he always used to say to himself, 'There is no good and evil. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it.' And they were weak, all of them. Ignorant vermin, cowering from a _name_ , and praising an infant for their salvation, while he stayed resolute and gained enough power to cheat death itself. And not by using fabled trinkets, such as the deathly hallows, but by purely magical means, found within himself. He combined will, intellect and sheer magical _power,_ and split his soul. He could sense the various pieces of his soul, scattered throughout the world, and one particular shard of his soul inside the head of one Harry Potter, and wasn't that just amazing? He could also sense his master soul, a spirit, a wraith. Mere shadow and vapour, leeching on the lowest forms of life to survive, but undeniably _alive_!

He would chart a course to his renewed rise to power. Lord Voldemort would rise again, but this time, he'd take the reins from the master soul. Which would be impossible normally, but his master soul was weakened, and he could absorb the soul within the Potter brat, and use a combination of the knowledge his soul gained from the decades of his first rise to power up to his fall from grace, and the weakened state of the master soul, and then he would return to his true human form, and no-one, not even Albus Dumbledore himself, could stop him.

He could use this incredibly vain girl, who he had to admit had a stubborn and obsessive streak in her to rival his own at her age - if incredibly amateurish and unrefined - to gain entry to Hogwarts and access to Harry Potter, and the master soul with it. It was, after all, inevitable that his master soul would seek out the source of his apparent greatest defeat. It was, after all, what he would do. And it was him. Well, an older and more unstable version of himself, but him nonetheless. And who knows, the girl might just actually prove useful. _Merlin_ knew that he had no better prospects currently. At least this girl appeared relatively sympathetic to his cause after all. She would have to be, wouldn't she? A Parkinson. A relatively noble house of pure wizarding blood, with a modest level of influence in the wizengamot and a hefty sum of galleons in Gringotts - in short, influential and wealthy, but nowhere near the level of influence and wealth possessed by some other members of the _Sacred 28_ Pureblood wizarding families. Like the Malfoys she seems so keen on, for example.

Still, a family resting comfortably enough in the niche of wizarding society that made their gain from supporting him the greatest of all options available. And incidentally, a family whose members seemed intent on setting service to the self as the highest possible ideal. Yes, he knew her family, and he knew that it was surely inevitable that she would turn into a narcissistic, demanding, vain and selfish woman, just as she was currently as a little girl. He could understand that, at least. He was, after all, familiar with those qualities within himself. And he could sympathise somewhat.

He would wait and gain her confidence, and reveal his true identity, getting her to pledge allegiance to him, and then, after training her in mental fortitude, and powerful dark magics - he refused to have a weak or easily suggestible witch in possession of what essentially was his life after all - She would carry out the tasks necessary for his resurrection, and protect his life essence with her own if need be, until such a task could be carried out.

Yes, he mused, life _was infinitely_ more amusing than death, in which event all of those possibilities ran dry, forever. So, for now, he would wait patiently and slowly gain her confidence, and use that implicit _trust_ she would surely have for him in service of all the goals he wanted so desperately to reach…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: So, a few things to mention about some facts within my version that will help explain some of the things that have/will be happening that are either not readily apparent or run contrary to Canon lore. Any Horcrux can sense all others at all times, wherever they are, as can the master soul - obviously - and Horcruxes can absorb each other, gaining with that all the strength and knowledge the soul had amassed up to the point in which it was severed from the master soul (Obviously, the older the Horcrux, like Tom's diary Horcrux, means the less magical power and knowledge), with the help of another magic user lending their strength to boost the power of the one individual Horcrux that wishes to consume the other one. Normally the master soul would never be able to be defeated by the other Horcruxes, but, without a body, the master soul is easy pickings for an ambitious Horcrux with a devoted witch or wizard helping them. And as you can see I tried a short Tom point of view in this chapter. They will appear throughout, but, for now anyways, my plan is to primarily stick to Pansy's perspective, but that might change later on. I am uncertain on that front right now. It will be back to Pansy's point of view at the beginning of chapter 3, at any rate. And I'm sure you noticed me attempting to draw parallels between some of the core aspects of Pansy's personality and Tom's own. I think it's rather obvious that with Tom being a ruthless sociopath with very limited capacity for human connection, and Pansy being an obsessive narcissist with a need to attain a life where she is recognized by everyone else as she sees herself, that, while certainly an unorthodox and someone unnatural pairing, those things are why I think that they are actually perfect for each other. And I had an urge to combine my favourite male Harry Potter character (Voldemort) with my favourite female Harry Potter character, Pansy Parkinson. And as always review and follow/favourite. And direct message with any thoughts or inquiries you might have. I'd be happy to explain my thoughts and plans for the story, without giving too much away, naturally. Bye for now.


	3. Chapter 3: The secrets of a soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for the plot and any original characters. Everything else is the property of J.K. Rowling.

**January 1991**

**Parkinson Manor**

Pansy was extremely excited. Today was her 11th birthday. She just got her Hogwarts letter and her father had the house elves bake a massive birthday cake for her today, and of course bought her tons of presents. She ran upstairs and rushed to speak with Tom. She paused for a moment, and then slowly resumed her ascent, while taking the time to consider her new and (only really) real friend, Tom Marvolo Riddle.

He was a quiet one, her friend. He was effortlessly charming, deviously clever, well mannered and _supernaturally_ persuasive. He never said overly much, and yet when he did, it was always perfect. Perfect like her. Perfect _for_ her, Tom would say. And she'd believe him. She'd always believe and trust in Tom. After all, he always managed to make everything about her, somehow, and _always, always,_ treated her _exactly_ how she felt she should be treated. He was never cruel or dismissive, like Draco always was when it came to her.

And Tom always, whenever he was silent, which was quite often indeed, _always_ had these clever little smirks when he'd appear in front of her out of the diary. And the most intense eyes she thought that she'd ever seen. One thing that always confused her, although, not in a frightening way, as she could never be frightened of Tom, _never_ , was that his eyes were a startling bloody crimson colour. She vividly remembered the day she'd gone to speak to her father and asked about a person with crimson, shining eyes. And her father got a distant look in his eyes, seeming somewhat haunted, and would quietly say, voice barely even a whisper _'The Dark Lord…'_ And she'd been momentarily confused, until her father turned and focused on her once more and said it was the mark of someone who had delved deep into the blackest of the dark magics in the world. And then he'd asked her where she'd heard of red eyes, and she mirrored one of Tom's precocious little smirks and she replied "Oh nowhere father, I just heard about it from a _book_." He'd accepted that and sent her to bed, and she figured to ask Tom about it later.

Which she did. She'd asked if he had really done _true_ dark magic. And he told her, face bearing his trademark smirk and crimson eyes shining, that she really shouldn't ask such questions of a person who she'd only known for little more than two months. That all _would_ be revealed in time, when she was ready. She'd stomped her little feet and told him that she was perfectly ready now, and he scoffed and told her that he'd surprise her with something truly shocking, a true _revelation_ , when her birthday came around. He asked her to wait, just until then, and she'd agreed. But, then he'd said he'd only tell her on her birthday, if she _swore_ that she'd never tell another _soul_ , alive or dead, what he told her, when he did, unless and until he gave her permission to speak of it. She had felt something truly powerful just then, something that seemed to grip her very being, from deep inside of her, after he said those words to her. And she hadn't thought anything of it, and she had readily agreed, because it was for Tom, after all. And the grip on her being didn't leave after that, instead it enveloped her very being, seemingly swallowing her whole, almost in a comforting way, like an embrace. And she was content.

And today, her patience would be rewarded, and her curiosity satiated. She'd finally find out _everything_ about Tom. Everything about him that she so desperately wanted to know. And that he'd surely tell her. So she resumed her speedy race up to her room, and bounded over to the diary, and spoke with Tom, who sat, leaning casually against her desk nearest to the open window frame, which he quickly shut, and ordered her to do the same with the door. She readily complied, and he began.

"Pansy, my dear, I must first ask you a question. Before I say anything, I must know, how far are you willing to go, to achieve what you desire? And what would you be capable of, if you had to lend me your assistance in the pursuit of _my_ desires?" Tom stared intently at her, and his crimson eyes _gleamed_.

"Anything. I'd do anything and everything for you Tom. Anything for you, just as I would for myself, of course." She'd readily replied.

"Hmm, Anything, you say?" He paused to scoff and shrugged noncommittally, as if he doubted her. "I suppose we'll see, soon enough. Are you ready for your _fantastic_ birthday surprise, my dearest Pansy?"

I nodded eagerly towards him, somewhat impatient for him to get on with it, and I said, nearly exasperated, "Yes already, Tom. Now please, tell me!" I demanded.

He smirked, and then asked her something that confused her greatly. "Tell me. What is my name?"

"Your name Tom?" At his curt nod, I confusedly responded, "Your name is Tom Marvolo Riddle." I looked at him questioningly, wondering where he was headed with this.

Then he spoke. He hissed something loudly, the sound roaring in my ears like the hiss of a serpent and I suddenly realised that he was speaking in the language of the serpents, Parseltongue. As he hissed, all light in the room vanished, and flaming letters appeared in the air, spelling out **Tom Marvolo Riddle**. And with a lazy wave of his long-fingered hand, the letters rearranged themselves into something _truly_ shocking. I felt my knees go weak, and I fell to the ground. There, in letters flaming about the air above my desk, was clearly stated, **I am Lord Voldemort**. Tom finally spoke again. This time, in English. "So tell me now, my dearest Pansy. What is my _name_?"

"I...I…" Pansy started to hyperventilate slightly. "T..Tom, what…?" She suddenly felt faint.

"What is my name, Pansy?" Tom snapped, for what seemed like the first time ever with her. She gulped.

"L…L...L…" Pansy suddenly felt like she was choking. That her very lungs had stopped working.

Tom finally had enough. He flew forward and gripped her chin roughly with his slender, long-fingered hands. "Don't let it get stuck in your throat! Speak!" He snarled.

She forced herself to calm down enough to get her vocal cords to function. She felt like a spectator within her own mind, watching as her body acted of its own accord. Finally, she spoke, "L...Lord V-Voldemort." Barely above a whisper. Suddenly she was jolted back to her father, as if in her mind's eye, she heard him say, in that same harrowed tone from many months ago, _'The Dark Lord.'_

Tom smiled at her. "Very good, Pansy. For a moment I believed you to be another _mewling quim_ like the rest of the magical population. To be completely honest I didn't truly think you had the fortitude to handle the _truth_ , being the spoiled little girl that you are. You honestly surprised me. For that, you have earned the _mild_ appreciation of Lord Voldemort."

Pansy seemed to snap back to herself at his backhanded compliment. "You'd be surprised at what I am willing to do. Father always told me I was special. And I am." Pansy snapped. She hated when people condescended to her. Then, starting, she remembered just _who_ she was speaking to. Her eyes snapped to his face in a panic, expecting to be killed or tortured endlessly. To her immense shock, he simply smiled that sardonic little smirk that was just so perfectly _Tom_ , with a relaxed look upon his face. To see _her_ Tom back again, even on the face of _The_ Lord Voldemort, caused her immeasurable relief. She blew out a short breath and smiled shortly at him, feeling the tension leave her shoulders.

"But, what do you want from me, M-My L-Lord?" She asked. She knew what was expected of her, and she was strangely at ease with it. This might be Lord Voldemort, but it was also Tom, her Tom. And she really wanted to help Tom. To help Tom with anything and everything she could.

He smiled in a way that put her even further at ease. His eyes softened, just enough to be noticeable. And while his eyes retained a hardness around the edges, and his voice was as cold and unyielding as steel, his eyes still softened. She suddenly recalled Tom's words, _'I am perfect for you, Pansy.'_ And then the Dark Lord spoke.

"You have truly impressed me these last few months, my dear. It was most unexpected. Who would have thought that I'd ever deem anyone worthy of my _true_ acknowledgement, let alone a sheltered little girl such as you? And yet, you have it. You are singularly determined in pursuit of your goals, which you latch onto with an obsessive fervour, and a dogged stubbornness that refuses to let you give up on anything you truly set your mind to. It is reminiscent of my younger years. You are brutal, and unafraid to speak your mind, hurting others carelessly as you pursue your goals. A true marvel."

He paused to walk away from her. He turned back and continued. "Lord Voldemort asks much of you. But should you serve, and should you succeed…" He paused for effect, then continued, "Your rewards will be _boundless_. I need your help to restore my physical form, my body, to this piece of my _immortal_ soul. I cannot die as long as this and other objects are intact. You will protect them. You will use this object, follow my directions, and restore me to my rightful place. In exchange, I will teach you how to shield your mind even from the likes of Albus Dumbledore, how to invade the minds of anyone, to learn all their secrets. I will teach you all of the dark magic I know to exist, and I will grant you the right to immortality… should you succeed, at any rate. Should you fail, however, you will die. Ignominiously, and pathetic. Never mourned nor remembered, the mere memory of you will vanish into dust. And I will step over your mangled corpse to further pursue my goals. So, Pansy, do you accept?"

She stood stock still and stared at him for a long moment. Then, with a determination that surprised her, she spoke, never wavering once. "Like you even need to ask, My Lord. I was born for greatness, so teach me to be great."

He smiled and turned fully towards me, he gestured for me to stand, which I did. And then he spoke the words that sealed my fate. "Excellent, my dear. Shall we begin…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: So, here we are. I wished to expound upon the concept of a secret heart of steel within Pansy. That I think we should look at her willingness to be cruel to nearly everyone and state exactly what she thinks, never faltering for fear of judgement or rejection within the books. Even with a willingness to completely throw Harry Potter to the wolves when surrounded by hundreds of his allies. She is made of much stronger stuff than Draco ever appears to be in any case in the books. She only follows his lead due to her obsession with him, and her narcissistic tendencies, of which having the richest, most attractive etc… focus for her affection being paramount. So if the Dark Lord, in a charismatic, handsome younger form - like the one within his diary Horcrux - showed her trust and affection and made promises of massive rewards, I fully think that this obsessive nature would turn to favour, solely, the Dark Lord. And I think he would, of course, ruthlessly exploit this, obviously, but also appreciate it on a personal level. Seeing as his stubborn obsession with never dying and using magical power to beat the world into submission is a form of the same traits she possesses. And if there is one true love in his life, it is himself. And anyone that can mirror his traits and characteristics so exactly would undoubtedly be cause for a certain possessiveness and, even a fondness for said person. Anyway, those are merely my thoughts. And as always review and follow/favourite. And direct message with any thoughts or inquiries you might have. Bye for now.


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